Cooking Lesson
by Bond.Jane
Summary: Pure B/B fluff yes, well, it was bound to happen! Booth teaches Brennan a thing or two about cooking.RATING CHANGED FOR CHAPTER 4. Now concluded
1. Let's get it on

Her cell buzzed and danced lightly on her desk

Her cell buzzed and danced lightly on her desk. "New Message". Her heart raced. "_Booth_" and a smile crept across her face. These little things were becoming an absolute daily addiction.

"Dinner tonight, my place, _WE'RE_ cooking"

"_Hum, promising_" particularly because her kitchen abilities did not stretch far. Sure, she had an understanding of the physics of it, but little more than that. Cooking required recipes, method, paraphernalia, experience… She was home little enough to not feel the inclination to cook.

Heart racing and fingers flying, she composed a "Meet you there" reply. How pubescent of her. How delightfully pubescent. And yet, all her instincts told her to enjoy this, to make the most of this second chance at being a normal child/teenager/woman. "Don't question, don't analyse", Booth had said. She did that. She pressed _Send_ with a kiss on the phone. _Ridiculous_, she though, but it couldn't be helped.

Angela chose that moment to walk into her office, her lovely eyes taking in the gesture but making no comment. _Some things you better not say or you risk Brennan retracting back into that shell_. And Angela loved her friend too much to see her backing into loneliness.

"You look happy…" she extended a smile that invited Brennan to confide secrets. She was rewarded with a dreamy smile.

"That is probably because I am" and walked out of the office kissing Angela's cheek on her way out expressing a silent request that the matter be not pursued any further.

Angela watched her walk away, striding confidently- even if slightly like a duck- into the platform. _You're walking way easy this time, but you will have to spill all those beans, sweetie _she smiled, _sooner or latter. Would be interesting to see what face Booth was sporting around at the moment, though!_

As it turned out, Angela did not have to wait long as Booth walked into her office holding an iPod in his hand and a flustered look on his face

"Hey, there, Squint-by-proxy", he greeted and, lowering his voice, "I need a favour…" he said in a hush hush tone handing her the iPod. Angela took it in her hand, turned on all sides and said with an impish smile:

"It would be stating the obvious saying what this is, so spill, handsome!"

"It's new… and… well, I was wondering if you could stuff it with something nice…"

"Nice as in romantic nice or nice as in guy nice?"

"ah… romantic, please. Get me some blues, some jazz, that kind of stuff… ah.." he scratched his head, unsure on how to continue

"Booth, I'm aging as we speak!"

"Ok… can you put '_Keep on trying_' … please!… Don't ask!"

"You got it, give me about 2 hours… Squint-by-proxy my gorgeous a..."

Just as Booth was walking out counting his blessings that Angela hadn't make him squirm too much, he heard her voice

"Tell Bren that I am owed copious amounts of juicy details!"

He could all but hear the smile in her voice. He hesitated but did not turn. He waved her goodbye and walked out of the office as if on a mission.

Page 1 of 1


	2. Prelude to a Kiss

Her cell buzzed and danced lightly on her desk

A few hours latter, Booth was checking the apartment for any possible embarrassments. Satisfied that no underwear was lurking in inappropriate places he checked the time. _Almost 7_. He had agonized over the best choices for their first real date, considered this and that place only to discard them as "been there, done that", "lame", "too crowded", "too noisy", "not dignified enough" or "too stuck up". Nothing seemed quite good enough. Then he had an epiphany and bought an iPod. He had checked that Angela had not included any Angela-like surprises in the selection and satisfied, set it in the docking station and pressed play. Nina Simone opened with her wiskyed voice and managed the small miracle of settling his nerves to a manageable level. He heard the tell-tale click clacking of high heals coming towards his door and opened to a Temperance still adjusting her hair and trying simultaneously to check the hem of her skirt. The movement gave him an eye full of her cleavage and her, the horrible feeling of an undignified first impression.

She tried for an excuse that wouldn't come, gave up and concentrated on the _"What do I do now"_ scenario. _This is awkward_. Ever the gentleman, Booth took her hand and pulled her inside. Her perfume- a mix of flowers and wood invaded every little space of his heart, clung to him, branded his senses… He took her coat mostly to occupy his hands, impatient to grab and take possession of her body. _Get a grip, moron, you have all the time in the world_.

Turning around, Brennan observed the living room. There were cascades of candles placed in almost every available surface, there was music and a hint of furniture polish perfuming the air. _God, this place is so Booth_. She'd been to that space before, but not quite in the same situation as now. Before, it had been mostly work. Today there was a personal agenda. A_ romantic_ agenda. She took a deep steadying breath. _Face the music, Brennan_, and as she turned, she found his face inches away from her own, so close that she could feel his breath on her face. _Hell with it_ and she reached for his chin with the tip of her fingers in a silent invitation that he accepted, leaning over and gently touching her lips with his. They kissed slowly, rediscovering the taste of each others' mouth, the texture of the tongue, the exhilarating feeling of surrendering to what drew them to each other.

Out of breath, Booth pulled her into a hug to comfort her as much as him. He motioned her to the kitchen "Let's cook, Bones, Let's cook, before I completely loose it". She gave him a shy smile and moved ahead of him, giving him the opportunity to take in the full picture: a dress that could have been a Roxie dress. A dress that, he knew, would populate his fantasies for the next hundred years. Legs that looked like they went on forever and two heels that brought her almost to his height. _That cannot not be comfortable, but man, it looks good_.

Brennan felt awkward with the domesticity of the scene. Booth pulled a sparkling white apron out of a drawer and slid it over hear head, taking his time fastening it in the small of her back. It looked too big on her.

"So… ah… what are we cooking, Booth?"

"Mac n Cheese and apple pie, Bones. The staple of the American diet"

"Booth, you know I don't like…"

"..your fruit cooked… yes, yes, I know. But wait until you try our own. Homemade is different!"

"I don't know how to make apple pie"

"Oh, you're actually admitting to not knowing something?"

"BOOTH!"

"Ok, ok!", he pacified her. "But we are starting with the bread anyway. It needs time, you see. Come, help me with it" and he motioned her to the counter where he had already all the ingredients.

"Ok, tell me what to do, then". Booth stood behind her – arms folded across his chest in a bid to control his raging libido- and gave instructions on the quantity of the ingredients and explained how to work them into dough. Flour was flying everywhere and it flustered Brennan. _If you can't do it right, you don't wanna do it, isn't it_, _Precious?_ he thought to himself while holding back a chuckle.

"It's Ok, Bones, it just needs patience and a little tlc". To illustrate the point, he came behind her and sank his hands into the bowl. She was caught between his arms and the work top. Unable to move. Unwilling to move. His hands transforming random particles of dust into dough, his arms, strong and muscled holding her in place, his breath on her neck and hair.

Booth removed the ball of dough from the bowl and started kneading it in the work surface. Her hands had developed a mind of their own and joined his in kneading the bread dough, touching his skin, feeling his warmth and his strength. Her thoughts stubbornly wondered to what those hands could do to her flesh. She concentrated on breathing in and out, in and out. The only sound she was aware of was the wild beating of her heart inside her hears. Booth seemed to be in a trance. Too lost in the sensation of having her there in his kitchen, in his arms; her fingers dancing with his in the warmth of the dough, the scent of her permeating every layer of him, every place in him. _Too soon, this is too soon_. He slowly broke the spell. He needed to.

He turned around. Found a knife a scored the surface of the ball of dough into a cross.

Feeling the absence of his arms around her, Brennan moved to the side, trying to hold on to something sturdy so as not to fall on the floor. Booth picked up the tray where he had put the dough and approached her. He raised it to face level and, keeping his eyes steady on hers, kissed the dough

"What are you doing? That's not very hygienic…" she contested, but her heart wasn't in it.

"Spreading the love, Bones. Just spreading the love. It is an old tradition"

"I'm not sure how kissing flour and water achieves that purpose", she countered.

"And yet, that's what makes flour and water into bread…Anything worth doing should be done with love, don't you think?"

Brennan surprised herself but she took a step forward and imitated his gesture.

Booth set the tray next to the heating.

"It needs time to grow"

Page 2 of 2


	3. I've got a feelin' I'm fallin'

Her cell buzzed and danced lightly on her desk

Booth took her hand, pulled her twirling into his arms and, holding her close, felt her heart beating against him while Dinah Washington sang her broken heart in a voice raw with emotion. They held on to each other, their feet moving to the rhythm of the songs that Angela had selected in an act of love of her own. It did not surprise her the compatibility of their movements. She'd always known that they were in absolute synchrony, tuned into each other. And since Aurora she'd wanted to dance with him again. Booth danced her over to the bar stool by the work top, put a glass of red wine in her hand and raised it in a silent toast as if he had forgotten to verbalize it. And yet, his eyes spoke volumes.

Brennan felt a paralyzing fear. _Too perfect to be true_. She felt like a rabbit caught in the lights of a speeding car, her flight instincts springing to life. She felt compelled to break the eye contact- as if it would put a stopper to the hold he already had on her.

"So what are we toasting to?" _Stupid_, she scolded herself the moment her voice came out broken in a sob-like sound. She cleared her throat but couldn't quite avert her eyes. Booth instinctively called her bluff.

"To amazement. We are toasting to amazement, Temperance. To finding the amazing in the ordinary- and be the happiest for it."

_Oh man! How old am I? How does he do this? How does he undo me with one single thought?_

With every word, Booth had moved closer to her until he had his hands on her waist. Effortlessly, he raised her from the floor and sat her on the work top. His finger trailed a path from her knee to her foot, leaving behind liquid fire. He took her right shoe off, held it in his hand and asked her:  
" You'd be more comfortable out of these two torture instruments. Let me guess: Angela chose them…"

Temperance half smiled, half sighed

"Yes! She said they would drive your blood pressure through the roof… Did they?"

"Oh yes, that they did… among other things. You can thank her for me later." Though a great believer in delaying pleasure, Booth couldn't quite stop what came next. Not When Temperance was so in the moment, not when his body was pulled to her by some invisible puppeteer. Not when the only thing he wanted to do was dive into her eyes and see himself from there. He moved into her lips and kissed. Kissed for all the times he'd denied himself that live saving action, for all the times he'd almost lost her, for all the kisses she'd given others during the time he'd known her, and the time before he did and all other lifetimes before that. He felt a stab of jealousy. The gentleness of the kiss was overcome by urgency, a wanting so hungry and violent it scared him. When he managed to get a gip on himself, his hands were roaming free on her body, claiming possession of what, for so long, he'd had no hope would be his. She was flushed and breathless and oh so unwilling to stop. He kissed her chin, her cheeks her hands and whispered in her ear _Not yet!_ The tenderness had returned.

Gesturing with his palms facing down, "Stay! I'm getting you something more comfortable".

When he came back, he was holding a pair of black slippers sized for him. He slid them onto her feet and pulled her down from the work top with a kiss on the forehead.

"There you go, Cinderella. Time for apple pie"

With precise gestures, Booth slid the tray with the bread into the oven, picked up the makings for the pie and set the macaroni to boil. Playfully, he juggled three apples. _Playfully but expertly_, Temperance noticed. _God, he is this good at everything he does?_ Amused with her intense look of concentration, he called out to her

"Earth to Bones! Earth to Bones". _God, she is a picture in that stunning dress and oversized apron and slippers_. His heart skipped several beats to the utter perfection of that moment. He photographed the scene in his mind- every last detail vivid with colour – and he knew he would conjure up that picture at the time of his death. Clearing his throat, he took a sip of wine and concentrated on the apple pie. He rolled out a batch of dough for the case.

"My mother's secret recipe. If I told you, I would have to kill you" She chuckled and picked up the apples to peal and slice them as instructed. They worked in a warm, easy silence- just absorbing the presence of the other- content with the intimacy of the task. His toast words playing in her mind. The feeling of being part of something good- of belonging- bringing warmth to her smile.

"This feels so right..." she wasn't even aware that she had spoken out loud "… like real intimacy, real.. I don't know… family…" her expression changed in a flash from dreamy to fearful- for having revealed so much- and a longing for what she had missed half her life. Booth sensed the moment she realized she had voiced her most intimate sorrows. Instead of speaking, he smiled- a smile that was an embrace as strong as his arms could ever produce- but did not, in this particular moment. She felt embraced by his heart, cherished. An embrace with so much truth in it- and she relaxed, her expression soothed- and she knew that she was home in him.

Somehow, she managed to concentrate back on the apples and the apple pie while Booth went about the business of preparing mac n cheese.

"Booth?"

"Yes?"

"What do I do with the apple pie?"

"Have fun" She looked puzzled. "What do you feel like putting in it?"

"I don't know. What is the recipe like?"

"Forget about the rules, Temperance. Improvise, create something new- something just for us. There is no one here but us, anyway…"

"What if I mess up your pie?"

"Believe me, there is no way to mess up apple pie"

"Anything I want?" She asked warming up to the idea.

"Anything." She looked around and opening cabinets and jars and pots and containers, she collected different items and put them around her, narrating her intentions to him:  
"Sugar, just a little, cinnamon- for warmth- and a pinch of nutmeg- just for fun! And… I wonder.. can I put some pepper? I've tried something similar in Mexico and it was… wow…" She smiled expectantly.

"And you said you said you don't know how to make apple pie…"

"Well, " she conceded, "I guess I understand the physics of cooking, so this shouldn't be too different…"  
"Woa! Let me interrupt you there- cooking is not physics. It is simple chemistry and generosity…" She looked baffled. "See how you mix the ingredients and how they lend each other flavours and juices- how, together, they create something new? It's a lot like love. You put together two things that look like they are random, you add in time and patience- some improvisation- like your pepper- and you go from having ingredients to having something that is whole- and better, much better- than what you first started with…" Her eyes were prisoners of his.

"I guess you gotta eat, right?..." _Old flight habits die hard_, he thought, but did not feel hurt. It was all about patience…

Page 2 of 2


	4. My first, my last, my everything

Her cell buzzed and danced lightly on her desk

_**AN: Ok, big, huge, vast, gigantic, mammoth, colossal THANK YOU to all of you that commented on this story. It was a wee unimportant thing and you made it important because you commented and inspired me to go back and review and try to make it better. I hope the end does not disappoint. I'm not really good with writing more… explicit stuff.**_

_**I hope to see you around for the next story!**_

_**Now, please hit that review button and let me know what you think!**_

_**Cheers**_

_**Jane**_

The smell of the freshly baked bread permeated the ample kitchen, made it warm, lived in. When the oven bell rang, pulling them apart from yet one more kiss, Booth pulled out a slightly odd shaped ball of golden bread that was just asking to be eaten. Booth broke a piece off and, unable to resist, popped it into his mouth, still scalding. Temperance came closer and waited for him to feed her. She couldn't help it but wonder where her usually assertive, woman-of-the-world, wonton sex goddesses self had gone to hide, but she was enjoying letting Booth play the cave man. It was such an interesting experiment to conduct on herself. He took a chunk of bread, blew it cooler and then fed her.

"What do you think?"

"Delicious" though she was not quite referring to the bread. "I admit, it's much better than my usual choice"

"So," he raised his glass, "here's to our first accomplishment as a couple." The word reverberated in her brain. A couple. She was part of a couple. It was an expression heavy with social mores and obligations. But, somehow, with him, it didn't sound half as bad as she'd expected it to. It sounded reassuring, full of promise. In fact, she'd been half of that couple for a long time. Half of the centre around which so many people gravitated. And there'd been obligations then as well. With far less rewards.

They ate and they talked about this and that. Temperance was beginning to understand what he had been saying about amazement, about the little things. By the time they cuddled on the sofa for desert, a thin rain had begun outside. Poco were singing the "trying song". Temperance dug into her new found passion for apple pie. It was an unruly desert that refused to be eaten without some mess. Sitting on the sofa did not help matters. There were crumbs scattering all over her dress, in her chest and when some fruit marked her bottom lip with its juices, Booth set his plate down and turned to her.

"Now you're making a mess of yourself and of this room!"

"Sorry, I…" she stammered but was caught mid sentence when she saw the brown in his eyes go a shade deeper.

"It needs some cleaning up…" And picking up indiscrete crumbs from her dress put them one by one in his mouth. Deciding it would be easier if he just hoovered them from her, he sucked each of the particles slowly, lovingly, moving into her mouth to clean the little droplet of juice that had stuck to her lip as a beacon to a kiss. And, his breath hitching, he took the plate from her hand, cupped the nape of her neck and dove into the kiss. He wanted to get lost in that kiss. She was his favourite flavour in the whole world, a mixture of apples and cinnamon and Temperance. She was a spice all on her own. He could feel greed for her bubbling up in his veins. He was boiling in the fire she'd been kindling in the last few days when they first kissed, with all the kisses that they'd been forced to interrupt, with all the time he'd so patiently waited for himself to erase the line, waited for her to understand that he was her match in every way. It had taken time and patience, but together, they were becoming something new. He kissed her neck, behind her earlobe, making her shiver in anticipation. He could see her skin flushing in the same heat that was consuming him. He kissed her shoulder, her cleavage.

"I want you so much!" Was that his voice? Was that fire or air he was breathing in? He was 36 and still, he felt like a teenager, a bundle of unruly hormones taking over him, making him fumble and struggle with her dress, his hands pushing her down on the couch and lifting her skirt looking for his prize for being such a good boy for so long. All the finesse, all the expertise, all the moves he'd collected in his years of loving other women lost because it was Bones in his couch under him.

Temperance was fumbling herself. Somehow, she was different with Booth. All that she was with other guys did not make sense being with Booth. His hands felt different on her skin, his weight on her was a new sensation. All that she knew about sex seemed impossible to apply to being with him. She did not want to do things her own well trodden way, she did not want to go about being with this man as a scientifically proven procedure to derive pleasure. She wanted more, so much more she couldn't even comprehend it. Her brain was not functioning properly. It was probably because of his hands exploring the inside of her thigh, or, possibly, because of his apple breath on her neck or even perhaps because of the feel of his arms around her pulling her to melt into him. Eventually, it was that warming in her core. Either way, she would leave the thinking for some other time. Right now, she just wanted to get close to him- so close that maybe, just maybe she could live under his skin, next to his heart. She dared not name that fierce feeling inside her- that need to protect him and to make him her harbour from the storm. She did not care to analyse. And yet, once more, she spoke without realizing it:  
"I love you" His heart stopped for the fraction of a second it took him to process the words he had,

for so long, craved, longed for, desired with the last fibre of his heart. His silence gave her time.

"You complete me… make me whole again…"

He was undone. His mouth found hers and together, Temperance later thought, they perverted the laws of physics and occupied the same space at the same time- they became one- as they made love for the very first time.

The following day Brennan walked into the Jeffresonian distracted, almost like in a dream. She avoided the platform and sat in her office, not bothering to switch on lights or opening the windows. She sat on the couch and concentrated on her body. She could still feel every single one of Booth's touches. Every single trail he had etched onto her skin. It was as if he had tattooed himself onto her. She smiled candidly at flashbacks of the night. She shifted in her seat and the smell of him, of his skin, of his breath wafted into her senses from under her clothes. She pulled the sweater to and fro against her chest to allow herself to feel that scent again and again and again.

Angela stood silently observing from the door. She walked to Brennan, sat and startled her friend. Brennan smiled in recognition.

"Sweetie, you look like a dog with two tails!"  
"If that means that I look happy and satisfied and… happy- oh, I guess I said that already" Brennan smiled, "than yes. I ' got two tails…"

Angela took Temperance's face in her hands, looked well into her eyes and then hugged her friend. Temperance relaxed against Angela's embrace and confessed:  
"Angela, I'm in love" She sighed happy. "And I brought you homemade apple pie".

The end

Page 2 of 2


End file.
